


Blue Plate Special

by thelonebamf



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mostly Gen, Philanthropy, been wanting a fic where snake slings hash for like 10 years, so I finally wrote it myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: Hal arranges for Philanthropy to meet with a contact to get some sensitive information about a possible lead on Metal Gears, but when things go wrong and the two get stranded in a small town they end up taking on some unexpected jobs while laying low.
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Blue Plate Special

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the Otasune zine "At Any Time, At Any Place". I was so glad to be included alongside so many talented authors and artists!

“He wants to meet us.”

“Meet us?” Snake looked up from his spot on the floor, pausing mid sit-up to look at Hal, brow clearly furrowed even beneath his bandana. “Why?”

Hal pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, eyes glancing to the spot just beside where Snake had resumed his workout. “To hand over the intel, I suppose.”

“Don’t you normally do that kind of stuff online? Top secret hacker chat rooms, that kind of thing?”

“First of all,” Hal sighed, crossing his arms, “nobody uses chat rooms these days. What, you think people talk about top secret plans for nuclear disarmament over ICQ?” He snorted. “But yes, typically we would be doing an online drop of encrypted information.”

Snake’s eyes narrowed as he studied Hal’s posture, the tense set of his shoulders, the twisting of his mouth and dark circles below his eyes. 

“So why the sudden need to meet in person? It seemed like everything was going according to plan.”

“It was,” Hal insisted. “It _ is. _ But this guy is a newbie to all the top secret espionage action. He’s nervous, sure he’s being watched at all times.”

“I think I know the type.”

“I’ll ignore that.”

Snake resumed his workout, starting his set over from the beginning while Hal simply rolled his eyes before stepping back to his workstation to finalize the details. 

“We’ve picked a rendezvous point. Somewhere out of the way where we’re unlikely to be traced. If we head out tomorrow we can make it in two days which will give us twenty-four hours to make sure the location is secure before his arrival. I don’t expect any trouble but-”

“We have to be ready for anything,” Snake agreed.

* * *

As small midwestern towns went, it wasn’t the most desolate location they’d ever stopped over. There was only a single motel, but there were two or three gas stations, a small grocery store, and a single roadside diner where the two men decided to refuel and regroup.

“Sleepy little place, isn’t it?” The coffee in Hal’s cup was overdone and bitter beyond the point of enjoyment, but at least it was warm. “No idea how people live in a place like this their whole lives.”

“Not everyone needs a constant, high speed stream of Japanese cartoons beamed directly into their eyeballs.” Snake took a bite from his sandwich, overladen with ham and sickly pale slices of American cheese. He wiped a glob of mustard from his lip with the pad of his thumb, eyes darting out to the empty street, his view only slightly obscured by the “Help Wanted” sign collecting dust against the glass.

“No local law enforcement. My guess is if there’s any trouble they phone it in to the sheriff's office the next town over.”

“So that’s good for us, right? No cops snooping around and asking questions?”

“Maybe.” Another bite of Snake’s sandwich disappeared. “Or it could mean the locals themselves will be keeping a closer eye on things. More suspicious.”

Hal pursed his lips, fingers twisting around the sides of his chipped cup.

“We just need to be careful.”

\---

“You’re not going to like this.” Hal’s voice was flat with certainty as his partner emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. 

Snake’s hand searched on the bedside table until he finds a battered pack of cigarettes, the man paying no mind at all to the wrinkle of Hal’s nose before he responded.

“Cold feet? Calling the whole thing off? Guess we can get out of here, then. I’ll start loading the car.”

“Not so fast.” Hal shook his head, turning back to his screen. “The deal isn’t off, we’ve just had to make some adjustments. He’s worried one of his superiors might be onto him. That could be dangerous. He just needs a little more time to make sure he’s in the clear.”

“How much time?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

_ “Hal.” _

“A week? Two. Tops.”

The low grumble in the air was proof enough of the soldier’s displeasure. 

“We’ve got the time,” he sighed. “At least a month until our next planned mission on the ground. And if this intel is of any use then it’s worth our while to stick around.” 

Smoke curled around Snake’s fingers, lingering in the air until he forced it away with a single breath.

“Problem is, it’s easy to lay low in a big city. People have too much to do to pay attention to strangers. Small towns, though. They’re like beehives. Everyone knows everything that’s going on, and they don’t appreciate outsiders. If we’re going to stick around, we’re going to need a reason. Something to make us even a little less suspicious.”

“About that-”

“You’ve got an idea?”

“Well…” Hal cleared his throat, eyes darting away from the languid drop of water trailing down Snake’s chest.

“You’re not going to like this.”

* * *

At first, Hal had suggested he work behind the counter, flipping burgers and frying eggs while Snake rang in orders and wiped down tables. He always felt awkward talking to people face to face, whereas Snake at least had a handsome face to fall back on. Failing that, his serious demeanor and imposing stature meant not even the ballsiest thrill seekers were likely to try to dine and dash.

Of course Snake only had to mumble the words “hot dog ramen” before Hal turned bright pink with embarrassment, reluctantly agreeing he didn’t belong in the kitchen for the sake of everyone’s safety. 

Today Hal was busy with a family of four, taking down their order for burgers and patty melts in his chicken scratch handwriting as Snake hummed tunelessly in the kitchen, snapping yet another toothpick between his teeth. Perhaps it was petty, but Hal did feel a tiny amount of wry satisfaction when his partner realized he’d have to go eight hours a day without a cigarette to help pass the time. 

It had been a rough couple of days to start, with Hal mumbling through orders and dropping more coffee cups than was ideal. Thankfully, as long as the food eventually made it to the table the customers didn’t seem to mind, and the owner of the place was desperate enough not to fire the only help that had come through the doors in months. Hal almost felt bad about how they’d have to leave town as soon as their contact showed up and they had the precious intel in hand.

“Guess the lunch rush is over,” he announced, dropping a stack of plates into the dish pit. 

Snake gave only a soft grunt in response before returning to scrubbing a particular stubborn saucepan. He nodded towards a plate waiting in the ticket window; a patty melt and large pile of fries that Hal immediately helped himself to. 

“Coming up on a week now,  _ Eric _ . When is your friend supposed to make their way to town?” 

“Any day now, I’m sure,” Hal’s gaze skirted to the floor. “Honestly, I can’t wait. The internet out here makes me miss the signal back in  _ Alaska. _ How do people do it?”

“I wager the people in this town aren’t as concerned as you are with downloading the latest episodes of Paranoid Agent.”

“It’s  _ Paranoia _ Agent,” Hal snapped, tossing a fry back onto his plate. “And Satoshi Kon is-”

“A visionary director. Ahead of his time. Sure to be treasured for years to come.”

“Uh, well. Y-yes.” He stared back at Snake, brows raised. “I guess you were listening.”

“Not much else to do in this joint.”

“Guess not.”

The two stood in silence, Hal finishing his meal while Snake drained the sink and put the last of the dishes away. He dried his hands on the greying apron tied around his waist, calluses catching on the loose threads and wrinkles.

“He’d better show up soon. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is the wrong people to notice us. We’re sitting ducks.”

“I know.”

“A week, Hal.”

_ “I know.”  _

* * *

Their contact didn’t show up that week. Or the one after that. As the third week rolled in, even Hal was beginning to lose hope, unsure just how much good money he was willing to throw after bad. Snake, for his part, stopped mentioning it, and for that at least Hal was thankful.

He was somewhat less appreciative of the fact that he was now 14 hours deep into a double, watching the sky grow inky black as the town’s streetlights failed to keep the night at bay. While he might have been accustomed to all-nighters that turned into all-dayers before turning back into all-nighters again, they were always in the comfort of his own home or hideaway, pulled up tightly in his computer chair or on the floor with little else besides the hum of his CPU for company.

That sort of solitude seemed like a distant memory now as he struggled to make his way in between the overcrowded booths, turning to his side to avoid getting shoved and backed into as the diner was overrun with an unexpected and rowdy crowd.

“Didn’t realize there was going to be a Hell’s Angels convention in town,” he sighed, dropping yet another ticket for steak and eggs into Snake’s window.

“They wish,” Snake mumbled, rolling his eyes. “These guys are just common thugs. Making a lot of noise so they can feel like they’re tough. Overgrown playground bullies on bikes.”

“Fine,” Hal hissed back. “But maybe say that a little more quietly? I’m not liking the way some of them are eyeing me.”

“Well, you are pretty cute in that apron.”

“Ugh… just… hurry up with the food. The faster we serve them, the faster they’re out of here.”

Hal dropped off the last order, jalapeno cheeseburgers and extra large onion rings and allowed himself a quick trip into the pantry to catch his breath. He wasn’t looking forward to the monumental task of cleaning up after the raucous crowd, but at least they’d be done with their food soon, and then the whole thing would be over.

The sound of a glass smashing against the linoleum floor told him the gang had other ideas. He rounded the corner back into the front of house, ducking just in time to avoid a steak knife that had been sloppily hurled in his direction.

“Sna-” He stopped himself short.  _ “Steve.  _ There’s trouble.”

“Hnng.” Snake growled. “Get back behind the counter.” He snapped the dish towel from his shoulder, looking out onto the diner floor with distaste. “Better make that the broom closet.”

Hal didn’t need to be told twice, and his sneakers squeaked against the half mopped tile of the kitchen as he ran for cover. 

The closet door stuck as it always did, but it gave way after two hard yanks, finally settling tight in the jamb. He took a few seconds to catch his breath, turning his back to the door when his heart rate started to level out. 

A single bare bulb hung above him, its dim light not quite reaching the furthest corners of the dusty shelves. Hal could tidy up in here, at least. He could pretend he was doing something useful.

He could pretend he wasn’t hiding.

After he’d finished straightening the bottles of floor cleaner, folding the pile of extra dish rags, and turning each box of dish soap so its label was facing forward, Hal decided to open the door. It was quiet.

Not _ too _ quiet, because after isolating himself on a godforsaken island in a forgotten corner of the Bering Sea, he’d grown intimately familiar with true, deafening silence. Yet there was a distinct absence of the chaos he’d expected. 

Of course once he stepped back out onto the floor, Hal realized perhaps this was exactly what he should have expected. 

Snake stood alone in the middle of the diner, a mop handle held loosely in one hand as he bent down to take something from one of the many bikers now laid out across every available surface. Some were groaning softly, others probably wouldn’t recover for several minutes.

“This is bad,” Hal mumbled, looking at the mess.

“You’re telling me,” Snake huffed, pocketing his freshly liberated prize. “What kind of man smokes menthols?”

* * *

Hal allowed himself exactly thirty seconds to have a panic attack as he stood stock still, fists clenched, eyes shut tight. When he opened them, Otacon took over. As always, with a plan.

He ushered Snake out the door, sure that no one would be coming in for a few hours, and they wouldn’t want to eat here if they did. The man didn’t argue, happy to get outside and stretch out the lingering tension in his arms and legs.

By the time the next waitress arrived for her shift, (a hard-eyed mother of four, grandmother of three who referred to Hal, Snake and all of her customers as ‘sweetheart’) Hal didn’t know what to say. It turned out he needn’t have worried.

“This bunch again,” she sighed, throwing plastic soda cups into a bus tub. “I swear every two weeks they ride through town looking to cause some trouble. Never start anything, just running their mouths. I guess it was bound to happen. You get caught up in it?”

“Steve got me out of the way,” Hal quickly supplied, grasping at the thread of a lifeline being cast his way. “Did his best to de-escalate things. You know him. Always helping.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Unfortunately,” he put on his most helpless face, the one he used when he’d had to pretend he’d left his ID at home (before he’d gotten good at making fakes anyway). “He got clocked pretty good on the back of the head. Had to go home to take care of it. I really should go check on him. Do you mind?” He stepped gingerly over one particularly burly backside.

  
  


“I don’t know,” she hummed. “This is an awful mess. Gonna have to call the sheriff from the next town, wait for him to show up, drag these slobs to the drunk tank. That’s gonna eat up time. Plenty of my shift, for sure.”

“You can have my tips from the day!” Without missing a beat, Hall started pulling crumpled bills from his pockets, pressing them flat against his palm. “I just came off a double, there’s at least fifty bucks!”

“Alright, alright.” She rolled her eyes, but pocketed the cash just the same. “You run on home. Take care of that friend of yours.”

Hal managed to beat Snake back to the motel and was already at his keyboard when his partner walked in the door.

“Sending a message,” he explained, not bothering to look up. “We’ll have to set up another drop point. Somewhere else. Maybe near the border.”

“Got it.” Snake was already stripping off his shirt and heading for the shower.

“Snake?” Hal received only a grunt in response. “Why do you smell like peppermint?”

* * *

There seemed to be no harm in spending a final night in the motel. Hal had assumed they’d leave town first thing the following morning, but was surprised when Snake drove them back to the diner, swinging into a parking space well over the faded yellow lines.

“What are we doing here?”

“You never quit a job, have you Hal?”

“W-well, no. Not exactly. I mean not the way people normally do. I don’t think it counts when your office is taken over by terrorists and nearly nuked.”

Snake huffed a single breath from his nose, shaking his head. “Place like this, I’m sure people are in and out all the time. But leaving without a trace, that’s the kind of thing that sticks in a manager’s mind. They’ll never forget we were here.”

“And we need to have never been here,” Hal nodded. “I see.”

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”

It only took a few minutes, and soon Snake was slipping back into the driver’s seat, a brown paper sack held firmly against his chest Hal reached out with eager hands, hoping for a farewell breakfast sandwich, or even some fries or onion rings. Yet as he reached inside, his fingers slipped against cool glass.

“What’s this?”

Snake raised an eyebrow and threw the car into reverse, leaving the puzzle for Hal to solve.

“Employees of the month?!”

“Guess we made an impression after all?”

“They made a plaque but they couldn’t throw us a grilled cheese to say thanks?”

Snake just smiled and sped on down the road.


End file.
